


See You Soon

by lightningrogers



Series: Arms Unfolding [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Bucky Barnes Goes To War, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Roommates, Secret Relationship, Stark Expo, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, mild sexual references, pre-war time period
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 22:30:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrogers/pseuds/lightningrogers
Summary: Events of the night before he has to go, when Bucky thinks he’s leaving everything behind forever.Prequel to Arms Unfolding.





	See You Soon

**Author's Note:**

> Goodbyes, not forevers. 
> 
> The song for this part is “You’ll Never Know”, the Frank Sinatra version (featuring The Bobby Tucker Singers).

** _You’ll never know just how much I miss you_ **

Today was it. He didn’t know if he’d be back. Meandering down, Bucky’s polished shoes clacked on the metal stairs of the fire escape. It was early, and paper boys were starting to carve the pavement, hollering and jeering like birds in flight as they managed to simultaneously hit their target doors and wake the families behind them. Swinging, Bucky stole a second to compare the young boys to their counterpart; to remember Brooklyn as it was in this moment, so that he could hold it close while he was away. They were soaring, legs pumping the pedals while arms waved and struck the air. The handrail was condensation slicked beneath his coffee-mug-warmed fingertips; the only thing warmer was Steve last night as he leant into the crook of Bucky’s shoulder, crooning, small desperate sounds between them that caused goosebumps to raise in mountains and valleys all over his body. In memory, Steve would continue to be almost as beautiful as he was in the flesh.

** _You’ll never know just how much I care_ **

Steve had initially taken such devilish delight in raking through Bucky’s perfectly slicked hair, and a pang had coursed through his chest when he tried with futile strokes of a comb to tame it just a little this damned morning after. Only a little – he wanted secret reminders of everything that last night was on every single part of him. He hadn’t ended up nearly as marked as Steve had. It was probably for the best. Skipping off the last few steps, his lips came to blow a faint tone, a second of a tune he would probably never mark as important. His finger gripped army jacket remained only half buttoned, another reminder of Steve and his attempts to help Bucky redress. It was a gentle, protective fondness that overwhelmed him as he remembered Steve’s fingers dipping below his waistline just this morning, the tails of his shirt apparently bunching in the space his pants should have cinched – but then suddenly removing themselves as the kettle on the stove whistled. Scatterbrained was the best way to describe Steve, especially in the mornings (and, Bucky acquiesced, _especially _this morning in particular) where his sleep fogged brain hadn’t fully awoken and the bags under his eyes hadn’t quite faded enough yet. And, somehow, despite all the anxiety and longing and heart-shattering forgiveness, he still managed a smile so innocent, but with such a brokenness that Bucky couldn’t help but saunter up behind him and wrap his arms around the smaller man’s frightfully slim torso. Mouth pressed to his neck and moving down to his collarbone, Steve let his head hang this one time, squirming laughter nonexistent; he let himself be coddled and comforted in a way he hadn’t realised only felt right coming from Bucky. Being small wasn’t so bad right now.

** _And if I tried, I still couldn’t hide my love for you_ **

There’d been that moment, the night before, when Bucky had finally roused Steve to go out for their last night together, uninterested dolls hanging off them while they explored the science fair together. A moment where it was just them against the world, and they could imagine Bucky was in a patched up suit jacket just like Steve’s, instead of his issued uniform and hat. Queens’d put on this whole show just for them, the fireworks crackling their encouragement. They’d gone dancing after that, their dates had insisted, with Bucky and Connie jitterbugging and jiving across the floor like it was ablaze. Steve and his date quickly found better suitors however: hers another fella looking for a good last night, and his, a soda he nursed as he plastered himself to one of the tables on the outskirts of the room. He never really did enjoy dancing unless it was with Bucky. 

** _You ought to know, for haven’t I told you so_ **

As Steve had handed him his coffee, the quiet “thanks, Stevie,” rolling off Bucky’s tongue had acted as a brand and the blond’s cheeks burned, suddenly bashful under wintery eyes. That was when Bucky was sure he could never love Steve more. Right there, in the haze and the fog of a quiet morning together, the sun lifting with each passing second and Steve flourishing in its glow, the kind of golden presence synonymous with everything holy. Thinking about it, Bucky buttoned up the rest of his jacket and pulled his belt tighter as he walked. His creased slacks crinkled slightly with the jostling of his steps. The alley behind Steve’s apartment smelled of discontent and something wretched, breeding dark places for broken limbs and blackmailed meetings to occur. The dull drone of the city streets beyond these narrow pathways would usually be enough to make Bucky’s head ache, car horns sharpening the pounding behind his eyes just enough for him to wince every once in awhile. This morning, though, he tucked every smell and sound and memory of these streets into the recesses of his brain. _I’ll be back before you know it. _

**_A million or more times?_ **

Bucky didn’t know what it was that made him turn, whether it was the memory of Steve beneath him, eyes half closed and blissful, or the moments thereafter where Steve was shaking, robe drawn tight as he rolled out of the bed and gasped something about the tightness in his lungs. Bucky had waited a few seconds with an outstretched palm as he watched Steve go, heard the scrape of the wooden chair against the warping floorboards; the scratch of a match lighting and eventually the smell of the reefer. Then, beyond that, Sinatra lilting to drown out the sound of a strangled sob. “_You went away and my heart went with you…” _

Maybe it was the knowledge that if he looked and waited for long enough, he might spot him through the fire escape window. Pacing to his record player, he often forgot about drawing the curtains once they had been opened. Bucky could see it so clearly, them swaying in the living room, holding close, foreheads pressed together while he sang too softly to nothing in particular. “_I speak your name in my every prayer, if there is some other way to prove that I love you, I swear I don't know how…” _But when he did turn, one last surreptitious glance over his shoulder, his heart stuttered at the sight.

** _You'll never know if you don't know now _ **

Fractured light made any kind of desperate attempt to break through the buildings; it spotlighted upon the back of Steve’s place, warming the cold brick, livening the space around it. There, in the frame of the window, was Steve himself – so heavenly, bathed in such an angelic morning glow, Bucky almost keened aloud. They were looking at each other now, but passers by would never take enough care to notice. _It was probably for the best. _Legs only just reaching the metal platform below his feet, Bucky could tell the light haired man was using what little core strength he had to remain seated on the sill. Terrified, bruised grin saturating his mouth, even from here it was undeniable the state of Steve’s skin. Red marks adorning his neck, blooms of purple and blue grew like flowers over his partially exposed chest. Absolutely ravaged: he was covered in sex and adoration and perhaps even Bucky _himself_. As much was evident in the fact that Steve had draped himself in one of Bucky’s old dressing gowns, dark and light blue pinstripes accentuating his sharp features and straw coloured hair and synonymously cerulean eyes. It had been Bucky’s when they were teenagers, nothing but friends with the slight, terrifying suspicion they weren’t quite normal. Weren’t quite men, perhaps – they could always remain boys, but _men_? Not with their affliction, it seemed. Even still, as young adults now (bodies more grown and affliction nothing more than anyone else’s love) the robe pooled and bunched on Steve in the same places it had stretched and warped on Bucky. Steve was apparently fated to be physically small and weak forever. 

** _You went away and my heart went with you_ **

Hunched with poor posture, he cradled Bucky’s unfinished mug of coffee in his fragile hands, coy teeth appearing over the rim. Half-framed glasses slipping down his nose, he took a hesitant sip, coughing as he choked. Struggling to remain within the window’s midst, the look of desperation that held Steve almost had him turning in on himself, and the still warm drink sloshed over the sides, dribbling onto his clothes. They’d sat there together on the fire escape only a few hours beforehand. Bucky in the window and Steve held secure in the cradle of his legs. They hadn’t said much, but Steve dozed and the smell of his medicine stayed on his breath, and his muscles were somehow too tense and too loose beneath Bucky’s grasp. He watched the sky shed its midnight skin and felt tears drip onto his wrist, where it rested over Steve’s shoulder as a pillow for his head, now laying beside Steve’s open eyes. He hadn’t even realised Steve was awake, until he rasped, “I’ll make some coffee before you go.” 

** _I speak your name in my every prayer_ **

Bucky only flashed Steve’s favourite suave smirk and waved with short gestures in return. Any more and he would be clawing at his own skin to run back up the alley, shoes barely touching metal as he clambered back up the staircase and met Steve in the middle, mouths colliding, the force enough to make Steve reel back, but the reassurance enough to counteract that entirely. Relationship open and bare for the world to see: one day, it would happen. Maybe not for them, but certainly for others like them. Turning again, he rounded the corner and out of sight. The tension in his chest cavity had him plummeting with weight, and his eyes burned as he felt the ghost of Steve’s fingers tracing the buttons and lapels on his jacket. Steve had tucked something in the pocket, but Bucky hadn’t dared to look yet. His tears remained silent but striking as he wandered down to the dock. They’d be there waiting for him. 

** _If there is some other way to prove that I love you_ **

He didn’t want to catch the eyes of the other men around him. All dressed together, they had their dames and their families to cry with. Bucky didn’t want anyone’s last memory of him to be one crying. He was glad, though, in a way, for the sickness that plagued his best guy. He’d be safer this way. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket, Bucky reached into the breast pocket. An old note of Steve’s lay against his heart, from some time the stubborn punk had finally let himself go to the doctors while Bucky was at work. It’d been pneumonia, again.

** _I swear I don't know how_ **

_It’s gonna be okay doll. You and me. _ _I’ll see you soon alright? _

_– S _

** _You'll never know if you don't know now_ **

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! don’t forget to kudos and add a comment if you like :>


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